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Goodwood Revival 2012

The Revival was upon us again….

So a few years ago I got to sit in a Jaguar XJ13 whilst talking to Norman Dewis – and that was a Revival meeting that is hardly ever to be topped… but this year came close. (See that 2009 write up HERE).

Over the years more and more people have decided to don period clothes and dress for the occasion that is one of, if not the world leading classic motor sports events. Last year we didn’t dress up, and that was the year that we felt more out of place for not dressing up, than if we had dressed up…. So this year we went in style…

Chris went in a military style, as did Alex, and I went as a 30’s racing driver.

As usual, the entire day was fantastic – that’s pretty much standard for the Revival, but this time we were invited as guests, so got a little closer to the action, sounds and smells of the racetrack.

It was astounding. Driver changes and pit stops within arms reach! Cars worth hundreds of thousands, even millions, of pounds, were racing as if it was 1960 all over again.

We’re not talking sedate demonstration laps – We are talking foot to the floor, spinning out on corners and sharing paintwork style racing…. Exactly what these cars were designed to do. When you see a Ferrari GTO rub up alongside an Aston Martin, or a £10 million Maserati spin off and slam into a tyre wall, then you know these drivers are in it to win, and not to show off the looks of these often unique historic cars.

What was the value of all the cars there over the weekend? I’d hate to think! Even a parade of classic Ferrari GTO’s must have topped 10’s of millions!!!

GTO’s are surely a pricey car…. but then I saw this line up…

The most expensive car total value on the track at one time must belong to the German ‘Silver Arrows‘…. The original German bad boys of motor racing.

The pre-WW2 silver Mercedes and Auto Union ballistic racing cars that dominated the sport… V16 engines, rear mounted, meticulously built with typical German detail and precision. Even now, these cars are a marvel of engineering. Just looking into the engine bay you can’t believe that these are 1930’s racers!

Not just cars though – The track was filled with vintage motorbikes, tearing around on the ragged edge of their limits… and beyond! Vincent, Norton, Rudge, BMW, Ariel, Honda… so many types – and the noise was all enveloping!

For a motorsport enthusiast or just for a fun day out to see all the events and sideshows, Goodwood Revival really is second to none. For me, one of the highlights was the pit stop that was that arms reach away….

I say ‘one‘ of the highlights, because as I walked around after the racing had ended, I saw a Tojeiro chassis Jaguar D-Type. Much like today, many racing cars used to be custom built to suit certain specifications.

Quite often a standard car was modified to suit a particular need, and Tojeiro used to work with Jaguars to produce some top racers of the day. Trojeiro’s work eventually lead to the monster Shelby Cobra, so he has a pretty substantial claim in the racing car hall of fame.

7 GNO : Year of Manufacture 1956 : Date of First Registration 19 04 1956

Anyway, several Trojeiro models were racing, and after the day of racing ended I went to have a closer look. One of the best looking (in my opinion) was the first Trojeiro, based on the D-Type Jaguar (which was a stunning car in its own rights, and one of my all time favourites). Luckily enough, 7GNO was at Goodwood on this Revival Sunday…

…and…

Well…. If you don’t ask….

There are MANY more photos and films HERE!!!

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The Night of Leaves

I am a fan of E.A.Poe – and my own verse lead to my nickname becoming “Raven” back when I was heavily into the motorbike scene. The guy who named me “Raven” was one of my closest friends (Ryan “Ox” Brown) – and he sadly passed away well before his time.

As a mark of remembrance to him I officially took “Raven” as my middle name. Most people knew me by the name back then anyway.

I digress… or not…. I wanted to write something with a tale to it in a similar way to Poe, and this is what I came up with many, many years ago (’95 I think). It constantly gets tweaked, and this is the latest (2008) version.

The Night of Leaves

This is a tale that must be told,
About a man, whom to the Devil sold,
A soul so twisted, this is no lie,
This tale, of how he came to die.

His day had been a little tough,
His day had been a little rough,
Though now his day had finally ended,
He was unaware of those he’d offended.

He was a corporate climber bold!
He had no fear – his heart stone cold!
But as he took his evening drink,
It was then the man began to think…

The sun had set, the light came dim,
His whisky gave a glow within,
With doors and windows bolted tight,
He settled to a restful night.

“They” were waiting in his head,

Sat by his hearth with embers dying,
Unaware that his heart was lying,
He reflected on a hard life’s work,
Aware of not where terrors lurk.

Slowly, as his eyes grew weary,
His hold on thought now getting dreary
Then a knock upon his window came!
Then another – just the same!

“It’s just a branch in passing breeze!”
He said to shadows cast by trees,
But when the knock grew slowly louder,
He sought solace in a measured powder.

“Who is there?” The man curtly said,
“At this hour I’d be in bed!”
“If not my ears that hear this knocking…
…then surely it is something shocking?”

“They” were hiding in his head,
To wait for him to go to bed.

The knocking stopped – to much relief,
Though his heart now sped beyond belief!
He poured more whisky in his glass,
And waited for his fear to pass.

Then a tone – so shrill, yet black,
Sent a shiver down his back,
Fear turned the sound to Demons singing!
He laughed! “It’s just my cell phone ringing!”

He raised his ‘phone….but still the ringing!
So reasoned he at this “Demon singing”
A siren? A siren from beyond his wall!
A car alarm – and that is all!

But then the frosted ringing stopped,
His telephone, the man then dropped…
For an image he did see,
In the shadows of a tree…

“They” were calling in his head,
Slowly filling him with dread.

He froze in horror – disbelief!
At the forms picked out in leaf,
Vividly he could recognise,
These faces, that fell before his eyes.

Then once more the knocking started!
By now the man felt quite weak hearted,
He put it down to too much spirit,
Although his fear just wouldn’t hear it.

Then again the ringing sounded!
His head spinning – quite astounded!
But now that ring was forming deeper,
Like a fan fare for The Reaper.

“Show your selves!” he screamed, he cried!
As now he’d lost all human pride,
Down on his knees he fell to pray,
As fast approached his judgement day.

Growing stronger in his head,
Faster filling him with dread.

More and more the faces came,
As slowly he began to name,
Faces that he had pushed aside,
Faces to whom he had lied.

“You betrayed us! – You destroyed us!
Just to force yourself above us!
Just a plaque upon your door –
That’s all you gained and nothing more!!!

“You can’t exist!” the man, he stuttered,
“I left you all down in the gutters!
I have the Devil on my side,
He’s the companion with whom I now ride!”

The leaf formed faces started rustling,
“You fool, for in the Devil trusting,
You have made your own death bed,
And bought the axe upon your head!”

Screaming now within his head,
Overflowing him with dread.

“Never! Never!” A frightened cry!
“You can’t tell me that the Devil lied!
He promised me wealth beyond conception,
You’re all just bitter from rejection!”

The knocking now once more did stop,
The man cast his eyes upon his clock,
He saw it reach ‘The Witching Hour’
And in his chair, began to cower.

The dull ring of Death was closer now,
To save his life he knew not how!
His heart was beating far to fast,
At such a rate, it couldn’t last…

He grabbed his chest, with all to fear,
The bell was all that he could now hear,
His final sight – all gowned in black…
With scythe, hung neatly, down his back.

Shrieking now within his head,
Overflowing him with dread,
Yes! Shrieking now within his head,
They sent him to his final bed.

They stood there, laughing, at his side,
Upon his coffin they did ride,
All along, within his head,
Now his last promotion saw him dead.

A plaque removed, an office bare,
A man once worked without a care,
He stepped on many, he aimed too high,
Paranoid guilt lead him to die…

And so my morbid tale is told,
About a man that lost his hold,
By using people that man soon fell,
Into the burning depths of Hell.

~ fin ~


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